Disclaimer: If they were mine I'd just give them funny names and lots of explosive devices. Oh, wait, I did that anyway.

Warnings: Violence, language, sex, sensitive themes.

A/N: Ixnay has over one hundred reviews! Oh my god! You guys are so, so freaking awesome! Thank you so much! Over a hundred! This is so cool!

*happydance*

Ahem…We're introduced to some of Rex's contacts in this chapter. Thanks to Star Mage1 for the idea that Rex should call them. They won't ever feature prominently, but I needed them and they were fun.

As for that vote…thanks to all who participated, you guys had excellent arguments on both sides. However, I think I lost a bet with Murphy…because it was a tie. About 9-9 with 3 split. I've decided to compromise. Sam will go by Rex for about two more chapters, and then switch to Sam. You'll see why.

Thanks again, guys. You are all so awesome. Here's to you:

Chapter Ten: Elf-Mages and Italian Mobsters

Rex spent the morning listening to Dean recount his life, asking questions and getting answers. Some better than others. He hadn't really elaborated on his own story, edging around Dean's questions. It had been an easy fight to win, Dean eager to fill Rex in on all he'd forgotten and not willing to push his amnesiac brother.

He tried to tell himself he didn't really believe Dean, still wasn't quite sure, wouldn't have his heart broken into a billion atoms of dust if the whole thing turned out to be false. But as good of a liar he was, he couldn't even sell that last one to himself.

He wanted to believe in this life so much it hurt. An ache that had nothing to do with his bruises. And if it all blew up in his face… well, Rex wasn't quite sure he could move on from that again. He didn't think he could go back to being a nobody.

How do you go back to nothing, once you've had everything?

Still, he didn't quite trust Dean. Even if the guy was his brother, that didn't mean Rex was just going to follow him blindly, right? 'Course not. They'd known each other for less than twenty-four hours (Discounting the eighteen years prior. If Rex couldn't remember them, then they didn't count. Right? Damn straight.).

An he wouldn't be surprised if Winchester turned out to be a farce. Nah, Rex was far too used to the shitty side of the world to be blind-sided by something like that. And he'd do his best to be prepared for that outcome. But still, it was hard to reconcile the cynical side of his mind with the song-and-dance going on in his heart. He wouldn't be surprised, but he'd be damn heart-broken.

Rex would be hanging around, though. He wanted to get to know Dean Winchester. Or re-know him. Whatever. And Rex needed to know more about his past.

And maybe…just maybe…it was possible he would start to remember things again. Everything.

That would be fantastic.

Though if there was one thing Rex knew, it was that life wasn't a fucking fairy tale.

Whatever.

It was midday when the brothers finally decided to sleep. Rex thought he could've gone another week without it, the way he was wired, but he easily fell into a light sleep, listening to Dean's deep breathing a half-dozen feet from him.

That day, Rex dreamed of Jess again. Splayed on the ceiling above him, bleeding onto his skin, flames ravaging the world.

He woke up without screaming, turned to the side and saw Dean sleeping on the neighboring bed.

It wasn't that weird sleeping in the same room as someone else. Rex had spent a lot of time in hostels in Europe out of economic necessity, and had bunked with hunters before. So when Dean had insisted he stay in that room instead of going out on his own, he'd acquiesced to avoid pointless confrontation. Pick your battles and all that shit. His brother had also insisted that Rex stay in Dean's messy bed farthest from the door, instead of simply sleeping in the crisply-made one previously occupied by their father.

Their father…

Rex had a dad. Rex had a family.

…God, he was so Lifetime right now.

Dean's description of John had been…interesting. It was obvious he loved the guy, but there was a storm of emotions brewing just beneath the hero-worship. Dean hadn't been big on talking about that, though. From Dean's description, Rex had inferred that childhood had been a bit rough. No need to rehash that, right?

Dean had tried to call John that morning, to tell him about Rex, and had gotten nothing but voicemail. He had seemed a little perturbed at that but had brushed off Rex's questions. Nothing to worry about.

Rex searched the room for a clock before spotting the dim green numbers. It was late afternoon, edging into evening. The sunlight peeked out whitely around the edges of the heavy window curtain and in the crack under the door. Rex hadn't gotten much sleep, just a few hours. Whatever. He'd gone longer without it before.

Silently, so as not to wake Dean, Rex climbed out of bed. He needed coffee and cigarettes. What the hell, he'd go all healthy and bring back breakfast, too. If he could find it at this time of day.

Rex grabbed his shoes, jacket, and bag as he crept across the carpet, years of silently stalking creatures of the night finally paying off. The other hunter slept on obliviously.

The sun was bright and hot on his skin when he made it outside, and Rex cursed quietly as he dug around for his sunglasses. Whose idea was it to build a town in the middle of the fucking desert, anyway?

Rex pulled on his boots quickly and glanced at the Camaro, but everything in Lovette was in walking distance, anyway. Might as well save on gas. Sunglasses on, wallet in pocket, he threw his jacket and pack in the car. Rex figured he'd go back to Georgia's, fairly positive he could get Nina to convince the cook to make him and Dean a late-afternoon breakfast.

But first, he had a few phone calls to make.

Let's see…he should really get in touch with Lewis, let him know he was still alive, and then get Scottie and Luca to do a few favours for him…

He'd left Europe in a hurry, the same way he'd gotten there. Though, he'd been in less of a panic this time. Still, he hadn't really let any of his contacts-- other than Jethro Jacobi and Lewis-- know that he wasn't even in the continent anymore.

Rex never planned on getting to know anybody. After his disastrous month in the States, human companionship was the last thing on his mind. He lived by himself, surviving the best way he could. Looking out for number one. Yet somehow along the way he'd made contact with others like him, other hunters. He kept in touch sporadically, offering help whenever they needed it. It's not like they had slumber-parties and chick-flick fests, but it was nice to be able to talk to somebody who knew that there were reasons to be afraid of the dark.

After he landed in London two years ago, Rex had been living day by day. Eventually, he began to get control of himself. He wasn't going to be afraid of the world. The world should damn well be afraid of him. With a brand-spanking new "whatever" attitude in place, he squashed down his grief as best as he could and threw himself single-mindedly into hunting. That was how Lewis Kelly had first found him, sleeping in a bus-stop in southern Ireland with a trail of supernatural carnage behind him.

In his late-thirties, with a head of golden-brown hair and sharp blue eyes, Lewis was an experienced hunter. When reports of some crazy sonofabitch annihilating everything vaguely paranormal that crossed his path reached Lewis, he'd gone to see who was cleaning-up Ireland. Rex had naturally distrusted Lewis when he'd woken him from his peaceful sleep upon the bus-stop bench, but the man's professional demeanor and proficiency had eventually won him over. Lewis was a private man, and Rex didn't know much about him, but that suited him fine. Rex didn't talk about himself much either. Lewis was the one to introduce him to heavy fire-power, showing Rex everything from how to shoot an RPG to how to disarm a time bomb. Lewis had also introduced him to Jethro Jacobi, the man responsible for his Camaro.

Jacobi was a damn good hunter when he wasn't botching jobs up and nearly getting Rex killed. He worked in Europe and the Middle East, an ex-military man who'd been introduced to hunting after a ghoul had picked the wrong fight and attempted to eat him. The ghoul had ended up with its head splattered across a wall, and Jacobi had ended up with a new profession.

Rex and Lewey kept in touch, and he'd been the one Rex had told about his return trip to the US. He wanted to have someone to refer people to, in case he got a call about a hunter needed back in Europe. His number had gotten passed around by word-of-mouth over the last couple of years. Wasn't like he could take out an ad in the yellow-pages, but previous victims he'd saved spread the word, and his cell number. If somebody did call him about a problem now, he'd refer them to Lewis.

Besides Lewis and Jacobi, Rex had a few other people he was close to. Relatively speaking. Somewhere near Glasgow he'd been put in touch with Cameron Scott, a pale guy with shaggy black hair and permanent pessimism just a few years older than Rex. Scotland was full of monsters and Rex had had no idea what half of them where-- until he met Scottie. After his father was killed by a kelpie, Scottie had devoted himself to fighting the supernatural the best way he could. Seeing as how he was a scrawny geek who could hack into most any government server quicker than Rex could salt-and-burn a body, the best way turned out to be a little more technical than most hunters. Though almost permanently attached to his computers, Scottie was the go-to guy for most of the European hunting community, with a freakish knowledge of the otherworld and the internet at his fingertips. He was also responsible for all eight of Rex's fake ids, and their corresponding federal badges and passports.

Luca Giordano was the other man Rex really should call. While Scottie was excellent at what he did, Rex needed someone who actually had connections in the same country he was in. In came Luca. He'd been hunting in Greece when they first met, and had agreed to team-up to take down a lamia they'd both stumbled across. The hunt had been efficient and brilliant, and Rex and Luca had hunted together off-and-on since then. Luca was even taller than Rex, and had at least fifty pounds on him. A hugely muscled man with a shit-eating grin and slicked-back hair, Luca came from a long line of hunters. The Giordano's still lived in Sicily, though branches of their expansive family had migrated to America.

What family members didn't hunt were involved in the other side of the family business. The less-than-legal side of the family business. You know, the Mafia one. The Giordano's were an Italian Mafia family of ghostbusters.

…Yeah.

Apparently some three hundred years ago a Giordano had been asked by the Pope to dispose of a malevolent spirit haunting the Vatican. Since then, the Giordano family had continued the hunting tradition. The crime family had spread to the US, and kept feet on either side of the law in both countries. Rex was damn glad to have Luca on his side. Not to mention, his mother made a mean lasagna.

So, Rex called his contacts. His side of the conversations went something like this:

Rex leaned back on the hood of the Camaro and pulled out his cell, speed-dialing Lewis. The phone rang…and rang… and rang…

"Hello? Hello? Hey! Lewis, it's Rex... Yeah. Uh-huh... I'm alive. Aren't you glad?… Oh, you're too sweet. Stop it, I'm blushing... Uh-huh. Aw, Lewey, you know you love me… Right. Okay… A draugur? Sure… Aren't you getting a little old to wrestle something like that?… No, I'm not questioning your technique. I'm sure it worked. You're alive, aren't you? Uh-huh… Did you throw the ashes into the sea?… Right. Of course you did. Silly me… Yeah, I know I'm a smartass. Yeah, I know you can kill me in like ninety-four different ways that I wouldn't even see coming. Yeah. Back atcha…Yes... Suck it, Lewis… Uh-huh….You know, I didn't just call to hear about your latest victory, old man… Fuck you too… Lewis… Lewis! Hey! Thank you… I need a favour… I know I already owe you. But what about Poland? …Don't play that game with me, I know you remember Poland… Right. That Poland… I knew you hadn't forgotten… Sure, we agreed not to talk about it, but that was before I realized what a dickhead you were… Yes, I did want a favour, thank you for reminding me… Dean and John Winchester. Heard of them? Oh, really? That's interesting… Hey, can you do a little research for me? You remember what the internet it, right?… Yeah, I'm gonna get Scottie on it… Yes, you can do it your way, sans modern technology. Go get 'em, gumshoe… Uh-huh… I know you're doing this as a favour for me. I really appreciate it. Seriously… I don't think that's even anatomically possible, Lewey… Okay, thanks Lewis… Yeah, I'm sure I'm alright. Thanks, mom… Yes. I will… Fuck you… Okay, have fun… Enjoy your warm beer. And thanks again… Bye, Lewis."

Well, that went well.

Rex punched in his next number. This time, it picked up before the first ring had even finished.

"Scottie, it's Rex. Sorry to interrupt… No… No… No, Scott, listen!… What the hell is an Elf-Mage?… World of what?… I don't know, Scott… I'm not in Europe… The States… the United States… What other United States are there?… Yes. Sorry… Why? My girlfriend lives here… Yes, I do… Scottie, we both know you don't have a girlfriend… Uh-huh… How'd that thing with Angela go, anyway?… Wow, she makes them herself? That's a little…unusual… Is that even sanitary? Wait, there was a second date?… Scottie, I did promise that, I know… I'm not a miracle worker… Sorry… Yes, that was un-called for… Yes, I will keep my promise to get you laid… No, you're not hopeless… I told you I was sorry for that "Beam me up" joke, didn't I?… Right. Right. I understand… You have a very difficult job, I know… I couldn't do it. You're one of a kind, Scottie. Irreplaceable. Yep… Speaking of which, I need a favour… Yes… I need backgrounds on two hunters here in the States-- the United States. Of America. Uh-huh… John and Dean Winchester…. A little more to go on? I know you're not a miracle worker, Scott, but you're damn close… Uh-huh. I am shamelessly brown-nosing you. Is it working?… Dean Winchester's twenty-two, born in Lawrence, Kansas. Any records will be all over the map. John Winchester is his father. He was in the Marines. Married to a woman named Mary. They drive a 1967 Chevrolet Impala, with Sedgwick County, Kansas license plates numbered KAZ 2Y5… It's not old, Scottie, it's classic… Right. Is that good? Okay… Why? Oh, Dean says he's my brother… Yea-- Scott-- No-- Let me-- Alright. Yes. I am… I know. Okay…Yeah, this is a big deal. A huge deal… Fucking huge… Right… I will…Okay?… Scottie… Listen, I'm going to call Luca, he has family in America that could help… Yeah, I know you and Luca don't get along… I know that was an accident… Right. No, I don't think he's forgiven you. Can you blame him?… Right… Pink, Scottie. Luca doesn't do pink… Right… He was joking about the killing you thing… Well, he wasn't, you're right, but he won't… I'll talk to him, okay? Okay… It'll be fine. No, you won't be able to beat him in a fight… That's right… Scottie, you can't drain his bank account… Because it's wrong… Yes. Alright. I will… Thanks. Talk to you later… Have fun with your Elf-Mage."

Rex was beginning to think that all of his contacts were, well, batshit insane.

Oh well. One last call to make. At least he could count on Luca to be normal, right?

On second thought…

"Hey, Luca… Salve. Come stai?… Buono, buono. Grazie. Luca, I need a favour… Si. Si. I know. Oh… Il Cane? Yeah, I know… Okay. I need some info on two hunters… Well, see, I'm in the US right now…Yes… Sorry… I know… I know… I shouldn't leave the continent without telling anybody. Right… I told Lewis… And Jethro… Oh, right, you say that to his face… Luca, I'm terrified of your mother… Say hi for me, by the way… Oh, lasagna? Nice… Right… I am sorry… Okay… So, about that favour?… Oh, we're not done ranting? Okay… No, don't put your mother on… No, really… Luca, please-- Salve, Signora Giordano! Come stai?… Si… Si… Mi dispiace… Scusi… So … Bello… Grazie, Signora… Io… Scusi… Si… Arrivederci… Luca? Right. That was low, man. So low. Fuck you… Yes, my favour. Those two hunters… Names are John and Dean Winchester. I already gave Scottie the info… I know you don't like the little punk… It was an accident, Luca… Right… It was… Uh-huh… I know it was pink… He's really sorry… No, you can't kill him… Because I told him you wouldn't… Yeah, yeah, I'm the soft one… Right… Okay… His accent isn't that hard to understand, you just need to listen… He's Scottish, Luca… Yes… I understand… Luca, do it for me? …The hangdog look doesn't work over the phone? Really? …I knew you'd see it my way… I'm sure you've met people more pathetic looking than me before. Up yours… Thank you, Luca. I owe you… Right… Your cousins Tony and Mickey? Really?… They live in Jersey, but know a guy that knows a guy?… His barber?… I don't want to know… No, I trust you, thanks… Okay… I am okay… A horse head in my bed? Isn't that a little cliché?… Oh, a Hippocampus head. Okay… I get the point… Say hi to your Mum for me… Uh-huh… Thanks. Talk you later. Arrivederci."

Rex sighed and pressed the phone to his forehead. Jesus Christ.

Dean woke up when he felt something missing.

He squinted in the darkness of the room, memories filtering in through his headache. Sam. Amnesia. Right.

The bed next to his was empty.

He was up like a jack-in-the-box, one hand going to the knife under his pillow. Shit. Shitshitshitshit. Where was Sam?

Dean scrambled out of bed and flicked on the lights, eyes burning at the sudden brightness. He searched the room, glancing under the bed, checking the bathroom, yanking back the shower curtain, pulling open the empty dresser drawers (Dean wasn't quite sure what he was expecting to find in that one. Sam was pretty tall. It would've been a tight fit.). No dice. Sam wasn't in the room.

Alright, he was overreacting. Sam probably went for a walk, or to get something to eat, or maybe to catch a movie. Right. Sure.

Dean hastily pulled on a pair of jeans, sliding his knife in the waistband, and stumbled out the door. The light outside was sudden and blinding, worse than the dull fluorescents, and he had to squint his eyes almost closed. Damn sunshine. Now, to find his wayward brother--

Oh. Wait.

There was Sam, a dozen feet away, half-sitting on the hood of the dark blue Camaro he'd been driving he night before. His head was bent down, and he was pressing a slim silver cell phone to his face with a look of amused exasperation. His eyes flicked up from behind a pair of dark sunglasses and zeroed in on Dean as he stepped outside.

Sam slid off the hood and tucked the cell phone in his pocket, walking towards Dean.

"Hey," He greeted.

"Ah…hey," Dean responded. He cleared his throat and tried to look like he hadn't frantically torn apart a motel room recently . Boy, he was sure doing a lot of unnecessary freaking-out lately.

There was an awkward pause before Sam shifted and offered up, "I was just going to get breakfast. Or dinner. Whatever. There's a diner a ways down the road. Do you want to…?"

"Yeah, sounds good," Dean answered hastily.

"Great."

"Okay."

Another awkward pause.

"Shall we?"

"Uh-huh."

"Great."

They walked to the diner in silence.

A bell tinged as Dean pushed the door open and held it for Sam to walk through. When they were both inside, Dean realized everyone in the packed diner had stopped talking and was staring at the two brothers. A dozen pairs of eyes focused on them, and Sam's bruise-covered face.

Dean glared. Gradually, everyone looked away and resumed their conversations like nothing had happened, giving a few surreptitious glances over their platefuls of greasy food.

A waitress with fire-engine red hair and an impressive set of knockers barreled towards them.

"Oh, Mr. Rexton!" She exclaimed, looking at Sam. Dean gave his brother a look. Mr. Rexton?

"Hi, Nina," Sam said casually.

"Are you alright? What happened? Are you hurt? I mean, it's obvious you're hurt. That was stupid. Are you okay?" The waitress gaped.

"Oh, it's nothing. Don't worry. I had a little accident, misjudged the stairs. You know." Sam lied easily. He grinned blindingly at the woman, and continued. "I'm an awful klutz sometimes."

"Oh. Are you sure you're alright? Those look bad. Really bad. My cousin got bruised like that once. It was nasty. Not that you're nasty. Not at all. It's a nice tough-guy look. JCVD, you know. Or sort of Brad Pitt in Fight Club. Not that I think you're doing something illegal. Or taking over the world. It's just those look bad. Not bad-bad. Are you sure you're okay?" Nina looked unconvinced.

"Perfectly fine. That'll teach me to take on things bigger than me. Like stairs." He smiled again. "How about a table, Nina?"

"Oh, right! For two? Of course. This way. If you're sure you're okay." Nina blushed under his look, then lead the two to a far table. As she walked, she glanced over her shoulder at Dean. "You're one of those detective guys, aren't you? Everyone was talking about you guys. You're investigating those animal attacks. FBI or PI's or something."

"Yes, ma'am." Dean answered with a smile of his own. He stared into Nina's eyes. "I'm Dean."

Winchester charm wasn't enough to keep her from glancing with confusion from Sam to Dean. It was obvious that she wondered what the two strangers were doing together.

"Dean here was kind enough to give me an interview for the paper." Sam explained before she could ask, flipping open the menu Nina had laid on the table and scanning its contents with one eye.

"Oh, your article! How's that going? Good? Alright, Mr. Rexton, Mr.… Dean. Do you guys need a minute? Well, sure you do. I'll give you a minute. And I'll bring two glasses of cold iced tea, alright? The best in the state, you know. On the house. Do you want anything else to drink? We have a lot. It's all good. I'll just give you some time, okay? Don't want to rush you. Do you want some ice for your face? I'll bring you some ice. Okay? Anything else?"

Dean stared. How the hell could someone talk so much in such a short space of time? When did she breathe?

"Um, coffee, thank you. Black." Dean requested.

"Right, one coffee, coming right up." Nina scribbled something that looked a lot longer than "coffee" on her notepad.

"Make that two," Sam added.

"Okay, two coffees. I just put a fresh pot on, you guys are in luck. You'll take it the same as before, Mr. Rexton?"

Rex nodded, and Nina disappeared in a flurry of short skirt and shorter apron. Dean watched her walk away appreciatively.

He turned back to the table when the talkative waitress was out of sight. "Bit of an over-sharer, huh?"

Sam gave a small smile of agreement but didn't say anything. Dean fidgeted.

"You know, if she overhears our conversation she's going to know this isn't an interview." He pointed out.

"Or she'll just think I'm a really, really bad reporter." Sam said casually. He shut the menu with a snap and set it on the edge of the table.

Nina returned shortly and took their orders, carrying a tray with two glasses of tea and two steaming mugs of coffee one-handed with practiced ease. Another one-sided conversation later, she was gone and Sam and Dean were alone.

What followed was probably the most awkward small-talk Dean had ever engaged in.

Sam was uncomfortable. He was uncomfortable. They stayed away from the big issues, and Dean found he had no idea what to talk about. His brother didn't say much at all. The conversation was stilted and strained, Dean searching to find a rhythm that just wasn't there. The easy relationship he'd had with his brother-- the one he'd had for eighteen years -- was disjointed. Finally, the food arrived, and the Winchester brothers had an excuse to be quiet.

Sam polished off his sandwich and side-salad like he wasn't sure when he'd see food again, and the reprieve brought from eating was gone far too quickly. Once more, the brothers sat in awkward silence.

"So, I was thinking maybe we could head out of town soon. Maybe go east or something," Dean finally said. There wasn't any point in staying in Lovette. And he wanted to meet up with his Dad. He'd called John more times than he liked to think about, and each time he'd gotten only voicemail. It wasn't quite time to start panicking, but his dad was going to have some weird messages to listen to.

Sam looked up at him at that. "Actually," He said slowly. "I sort of already have plans. I'm going to California."

"What?" Dean asked stupidly. It hadn't occurred to him that Sam might have his own agenda.

"Yeah. My girlfriend goes to Stanford--" Dean jerked at that with surprise "-- I was planning on visiting her. That's why I'm here. In the States."

"You have a girlfriend?" That was… surprising? Impossible? Crazy?

Sam? Girlfriend?

"Yeah. I… you can come, too, of course." Sam's eyes bored into his, and for the first time Dean saw hints of the puppy-dog eyed expression he was used to getting from Sam. Sam wanted something from Dean. Sam wanted Dean. "I mean… will you come?"

Dean didn't say anything, still a little shocked from the news that his little brother had a girlfriend.

A girlfriend at Stanford. That was all kinds of weird, but then again, it figured Sam would date someone as smart as His Royal Geekiness was.

"I mean… you don't have to, or anything. I understand if you have plans of your own. I just… I thought… I don't want to…" Sam was stumbling over words, losing his composure for the first time Dean had seen.

"Sam, Sam, easy… Of course I'll come. Duh. It's just, I'm surprised is all." No way in hell was he being separated from his brother. Sam leaving the motel room was enough to put him in a frenzy, Dean didn't want to think about what being on a different side of the continent would do to him.

"Oh, that's… that's good." Sam said, clearly relieved. "Thanks."

Dean shrugged.

"So, you have a girlfriend?" He checked, just to be sure. It was possible he had misheard. Sam nodded. Okay then. Girlfriend. Wow. That would take some getting used to. Dean would have to see it with his own eyes, that was for sure. It was a good thing they were going to Stanford.

"Well then, little brother, tell me about this girl of yours."

For the first time, Sam grinned at him, dimples flashing. The conversation got a little bit easier after that.

Italian courtesy of Google Translate, and goes as follows:

Salve -- Hi

Come stai? -- How are you?

Buono -- Good

Grazie -- Thank you

Si -- Yes. (And my computer flipped at any attempts to put an accent on the 'I')

Il Cane -- The Dog. If you remember, Rex had a matchbook with "Il Cane Bagnato" (The Wet Dog) on it. It's a bar. Or he's just talking about a dog now. It's possible.

Signora Giordano-- Mrs. Giordano (Luca's mom)

Mi dispiace -- I'm sorry

Scusi -- Forgive me

So -- I know

Bello -- Good

Io -- I will

Arrivederci -- Goodbye